


Encore, Part I: Back On Stage

by akamww3



Series: Encounters [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brief/mild swearing, Established Relationship, F/M, Just Good Friends (with benefits)?, Mild Sexual Content & Teasing, Mollcroft, Post-TAB Setting, Visiting Mycroft's Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6657685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamww3/pseuds/akamww3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Mycroft takes Molly on what he expects to be an uneventful visit with his parents, hoping to offset the family drama that surrounded their initial introduction</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Encore, Part I: Back On Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Molly Hooper woke early Sunday morning and carefully shifted higher on the bed, arranging the pillows behind her before leaning against the headboard. She glanced around her bedroom, enjoying the intimacy of the hushed stillness, the coziness of the soft sunlight filtering through the curtains ... but the true source of her contentment was the man still asleep beside her.

Molly tilted her head against the pillows and indulged in eyeing Mycroft - first lingering on the smooth lines of his face, so markedly untroubled in sleep … then watching his chest move with each shallow breath, running her eyes over his splayed limbs … and she suddenly experienced a rush of emotions that made her throat tighten, her pulse quicken, her vision blur with tears. This man who always seemed to be on his guard around others had slept peacefully in her bed from the earliest days of their relationship. How had she earned that level of trust? Was there more to it than that?

Molly’s breath caught when Mycroft’s lips twitched and he opened his eyes, blinking drowsily in that first moment of consciousness. He turned his head toward Molly and blinked again as his eyes focused on hers, and she felt a sharp pang at seeing the warmth enter his gaze and the creases appear at the corners of his eyes as he slowly smiled at her. They regarded each other silently until Mycroft shifted position to roll onto his elbow and prop his head on his hand. “Good morning, Molly.”

She regarded the rumpled tuft of hair curling against his forehead and the pillow mark on his cheek with affection. “Good morning, Mycroft.” Her gaze ran slowly down his body and more quickly back up, and Molly felt heat rise in her cheeks as their eyes met again. She reached out blindly for her mobile to check the time, then frowned and turned to look when it wasn’t where she expected. Her flush intensified when she saw the phone on the floor by the side table and remembered just how she’d knocked it off the previous night. She scooted down the bed and leaned over to retrieve it, then lay back and glanced at Mycroft, who was watching her with obvious amusement and that _damned_ knowing look … as if he could read her every thought. Which he probably could, in this case.

Molly bit her lip to suppress an answering grin, then shook her head regretfully and sighed. “Sad as it would be to allow such a _splendid_ morning glory go to waste, I suppose we should start getting ready to leave.” Her breathing deepened when Mycroft sat up and tugged the T-shirt over his head. “Besides …,” she continued casually as he lifted his hips and pushed the pajama bottoms down his legs, “after last night, you’d hardly be interested in more –” Molly broke off with a squeal when Mycroft suddenly pounced on her, nuzzling her neck with his rather bristly chin as he carefully nudged her legs apart with his thigh.

~ ~ ~

Once they finally got out of bed, Mycroft called the driver to delay their departure by an hour after assuring Molly his parents simply expected them to arrive in time for Sunday dinner. Mycroft’s mobile started buzzing as they left the flat, and Molly again witnessed how swiftly his voice, his body, his entire _aura_ could harden into that chilly persona he presented to the rest of the world.

When Mycroft eventually tucked his phone away almost an hour later, he angled his body toward Molly and stretched out his legs with a low grunt as the car bowled along the A3 north of Guildford. “I’m sorry, my dear, but that should take care of work for a while.”

Molly turned away from the passing scenery and smiled to see that his expression had again softened to the one more common when they were alone together. “It’s a beautiful day,” she said, “and a treat to get out in the countryside.”

Mycroft glanced out the window then looked at Molly with a twist of his lips. “Not much to see along here other than urban sprawl.”

He seemed to be relaxed, but Molly noticed a slight jiggling of his foot. Mycroft wasn’t prone to fidgeting – at least not in her presence – and she wondered at the cause. “Are you worried about this visit?”

His foot stilled as he raised his brows. “Not at all.”

“What did your parents say when you told them we were coming down?” Molly’s eyes widened when he didn’t answer immediately. “Mycroft? You did tell them, right?”

“They know I’m coming,” he said evenly.

“Just you?” She dropped her head against the seat back with a dramatic groan. “Oh god.”

Mycroft sighed. “Molly – you don’t know my mother. If I’d given her notice that you’re coming with me, she’d likely have had the banns read this morning.”

Molly rolled her head to stare at him. “She’s going to think that we’re –”

“Presumably,” he said, “but once we’re there she’ll accept the truth about our relationship readily enough.”

Molly turned to look out the window. “I’m sure you’ll be able to convince them we’re just good friends.” Mycroft stared at the back of her head and a crease appeared between his brows as he considered her offhand tone, but then she gave him a quick smile. “It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

He looked out the window again as the car slowed for heavier traffic, still frowning as he pictured Molly’s expression. He suddenly felt that he’d let her down somehow, and he didn’t like it … then grimaced to himself at the thought. _Feelings._ “My parents will be happy to meet you.” After a moment, he added, “Again. They’ll be eager to make up for what happened the first time.”

Molly couldn’t miss the hard edge to his last comment. “Don’t think about that, Mycroft,” she chided softly while reaching for his hand. “If _I_ can let it go, you can. Now,” she said more cheerfully, deliberately threading her fingers through his as she changed the subject, “how much longer until we get there?” Molly rested the side of her head against the seat back while he replied and then went on to describe their route, but she gave only partial attention to what he was saying as she studied his face and considered how much she loved every feature, every inch, of that cool mask Mycroft showed the world. He was such a complicated man, with so much hidden behind walls she’d likely never be able to scale, but she _loved_ those depths, his complexity, no matter that she’d never fully know him. She abruptly straightened when her eyes met his, and her cheeks flushed at the look he was giving her from under half-closed eyelids. She realized he’d stopped talking some moments before and she again had the distinct impression he could read every one of her thoughts. The moment stretched out and she waited, breath held, until he eventually arched a brow.

“Did you hear any of that, my dear?” Mycroft’s low rumble caused the fine hairs on Molly’s body to rise and she made an inarticulate noise as she swallowed the lump in her throat and finally remembered to breathe. There was definitely a smile lurking in his eyes when he squeezed her hand. “Molly?”

“What.”

His lips twitched at her distracted tone. “We’ll be there soon,” he said, then surprised her by lifting their joined hands to his mouth and kissing the back of hers. “Perhaps you should open your window a bit ... let the fresh air help you to wake up.”

_Cool down,_ she supposed he meant as she blindly reached for the window switch.

~ ~ ~

Once they exited the A3, their route took them another ten miles or so through a mix of residential and agricultural areas, open fields and wooded acreage. The car finally slowed along a stretch where woods crowded both sides of the road, and Lawrence turned at a narrow break between the trees and pulled to a stop at a gate blocking a long gravel drive. Although it looked like a standard six-bar field gate, Molly noticed the hinges and locking mechanism were capped for security, the square metal posts were industrial sized, and its heavy weight was obvious by the smooth way the gate opened. As they passed through, she also saw cameras mounted high on posts at the edge of the tree line on either side of the drive.

After fifty yards or so, the drive turned to the right and the trees thinned. Straight ahead, set at an angle and surrounded by a stone wall, was a large, two-storied cottage with a dark slate roof, three chimneys, and a rosy stucco façade. The drive again curved to the right and widened onto a graveled forecourt before a sizeable outbuilding, which appeared to serve as both garage and storage facility with usable space on the upper floor. Lawrence brought the car to a stop in front of the timbered garage doors, then got out and opened Molly’s door before continuing around to the boot.

Molly got out of the car and watched as the driver took two large duffle bags from the boot, stopped to talk briefly to Mycroft (too softly for her to hear), and then went through a single door in the outbuilding after acknowledging Molly with a lift of his chin. She looked at Mycroft across the car’s roof with raised brows.

“Lawrence is changing shifts with another driver,” he said smoothly as he shut the car door, as if that didn’t raise more questions for Molly than it answered. She walked around the boot to join Mycroft, who brought her close alongside him with a hand on the small of her back and then crossed the forecourt and onto the grass. Molly slowed at a gate set in the stone wall, but Mycroft kept going along a path worn in the grass. “Let’s go around to the front garden,” he said, urging her forward before turning a few moments later at the outside corner of the wall.

Beyond the wall was an open field of several acres, tall grasses waving in the light breeze, small groupings of trees scattered here and there, and more woods on the far side. They followed the path to another decorative iron gate set midway along the front of the wall, and Molly preceded him into the garden and partway up the central flagstone walkway before stopping to study the cottage. She was delighted by how charming – how _pretty_ \- the cottage was … not only the dark-rose stucco, but the cream-colored stone masonry around the door and windows; the uneven spacing of the upper windows; the rustic wood door with black metal strapping and hammered nails; the stone slab steps with a neat stack of firewood on one side and an oak whisky barrel on the other; and the informal nature of the landscaping with so many shades of green from the sod to the shrubbery to the lush plants in numerous planters and hanging baskets. Roses, forsythia, hydrangea and blooming flower beds – Molly easily recognized snapdragons, phlox and asters - provided vivid splashes of color throughout the garden.

Mycroft went first up the two steps and slipped a key into the lock, then glanced over his shoulder and frowned when he saw Molly was still standing at some distance, obviously hanging back. The door opened before he could say anything and his mother was there on the threshold, smiling delightedly as she reached to hug him. Mycroft nodded at his father over Violet’s shoulder … and knew the exact moment she saw Molly because her fingers tightened on his back and her breath caught just before she abruptly released him.

Mycroft stepped aside and lifted his hand toward Molly, beckoning her to come closer. “Mummy, Dad … this is my friend, Dr. Molly Hooper,” he said, taking Molly’s hand as she came up the steps and tugging her forward to stand in front of him. “Molly … my parents, Violet and Siger Holmes.”

Mycroft’s brows flicked upward and Molly suppressed a gasp when his mother didn’t hesitate before hugging her. “It’s a pleasure to see you, my dear,” Violet said, pulling away but keeping hold of Molly’s hands. “Welcome to our home.”

Molly returned her smile. “I’m happy to ‘officially’ meet you, Mrs. Holmes … Mr. Holmes,” she added, looking past Violet. “I didn’t know it was going to be a surprise to you,” she said drily, glancing over her shoulder at Mycroft.

“Oh, but it’s a _wonderful_ surprise, Dr. Hooper!”

“Please call me ‘Molly’.”

Mycroft cleared his throat. “Could we perhaps go into the house, Mummy?”    

“Oh!” Violet stepped back, fluttering a bit as she dropped Molly’s hands, then pushed her husband forward. “Here, you haven’t even greeted Molly yet.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, darling,” Siger replied mildly, then offered Molly his hand along with a kind smile. “You’re very welcome here, Molly,” he said, and Molly recalled him giving her a similarly sweet smile at their previous, quickly aborted meeting. Siger then shepherded his wife ahead of him down the hall, through a cozy sitting room (Molly’s first impression was _red_ – from the red sofa and chairs and walls - but it also had a stone fireplace with a brick bread oven to the side, overflowing book shelves, camel-colored rug on the dark plank floor, and more plants), and straight through a dark paneled door into a much larger sitting room.

Molly tried to take it all in without staring too obviously, but the cottage could hardly have been more of a surprise to her. What she’d seen so far was as cozy, warm and welcoming a home as she’d ever been in – so much so that it frankly boggled her mind to think of Mycroft and Sherlock spending much time in this environment … and yet Mycroft was obviously fully at home. There was so much color, so much _stuff._ The large sitting room had dark green walls and white woodwork, casement windows, a wood-burning stove set in the stone hearth, overstuffed sofa and chairs, side tables covered with framed photos and odd bits of art and stacks of books, built-in shelves overflowing with more books and family memorabilia, green plants in pots on window sills and on the floor and in hanging baskets with trailing vines, and unlit candles everywhere. An open door to the side of the hearth wall showed the bottom curve of an enclosed staircase with more pillar candles set on the steps she could see. Molly suddenly realized the others had stopped chatting about the trip down and were looking at her, and she flushed when she also realized Violet had asked her a question. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Holmes, but I was distracted by your lovely home and didn’t hear what you said.”

“Thank you, Molly,” she said. “I have a few more things to see to about dinner and asked whether you’d like to have tea in here or join me in the kitchen.”

“I’d be happy to help, Mrs. Holmes.”

“There’s not much left to do.”

“What about peeling potatoes? I’m _great_ with a knife,” Molly said, grinning.

“Oh no – that’s Mycroft’s job today,” Violet said, “but we’ll see if there’s something else you could do.”

Molly gave Mycroft an amused glance, expecting him to protest, but he simply pursed his lips and rolled his eyes before they all followed his mother out the door. Molly sighed happily when she entered the kitchen and saw its dark wood floor, woodblock worktops, mint-blue walls and built-in cabinets, big white knobs on cabinets and drawers, overflowing welsh dresser, well-scrubbed farmhouse table and slat-back chairs, and so many kitchen utensils and plants hanging on the walls or from the ceiling. “Another wonderful room, Mrs. Holmes.”

“Thank you, Molly. I just wish it was twice as large,” Violet said, “but it does have everything we need. And _then_ some,” she added with a chuckle, then waved a hand at the table. “Have a seat, my dear. Let’s all have some tea before we think about doing anything else.”

~ ~ ~

As the four of them visited over tea, Mycroft had been able to deflect Violet’s gently probing questions – both those addressed to him and occasionally those addressed to Molly as well - with seeming ease. Molly only realized the toll that effort to remain unruffled had taken on his patience when a tense silence fell in response to his mother’s latest inquiry … and continued for several seconds until -

“Oh dear god.”

Molly tucked in her lips and bit down hard at Mycroft’s sudden groan and the way he roughly dragged both hands down his face. Her eyes slid from Mycroft to his mother, whose expression appeared _far_ too confounded to be genuine, and then to his father, whose gaze met hers in mutual amusement.

Siger took another sip of tea, hiding a grin, then looked at Molly thoughtfully and changed the subject. “I have a general idea of what you do as a pathologist, Molly, but how in the world did you get roped in to Sherlock’s escapades?”

Molly laughed. “I’m sure he recognized me as a pushover the first time we met in the lab at Barts.” She gave Mycroft a sidelong glance, but he’d dropped his forehead onto his palm. “I admit to being dazzled when he burst through the door and I saw those rather Byronic looks and that dramatically swirling coat with its upturned collar, and then the experiment he wanted help with was actually very interesting. Once I performed my first postmortem related to a case he was working on with Scotland Yard, I was pretty much hooked, and my boss was happy to use me as a go-between whenever Sherlock was on the premises.” She paused for a sip of tea, looking at Mycroft’s downturned head rather uncertainly. “I’m sure Sherlock preferred dealing with me since I was easy to maneuver when he wanted someone to monitor his experiments or when he needed a body part. It took far longer than it should have for me to take an effective stand against being manipulated,” she said, her voice wobbling a bit when Mycroft lifted his head and their eyes met and held. “But now I have.” She forced herself to turn away and instead looked intently at Violet and then at Siger before continuing, “I’ll always want to help Sherlock because I really do care for him, but it will have to be on my terms ... and Sherlock, to his credit, has so far accepted them with good grace.” After a moment, she grinned. “Of course, I’ve been playing the guilt card the last six weeks or so. We’ll have to see what happens now that its effectiveness has worn off.” Molly glanced back at Mycroft, who was still watching her with a level gaze.

“And now you’ve been drawn into Mycroft’s cloak-and-dagger intrigue,” Siger said mildly, but gave his elder son a significant look when Mycroft’s gaze finally broke away from Molly’s.

“Oh no, Mr. Holmes,” Molly protested without thinking, “I don’t know anything about _that._ We don’t ever talk about Mycroft’s work -” She broke off awkwardly and slowly blushed as she wondered if his parents were now wondering just what she and Mycroft _did_ get up to when alone together. “Um …,” she faltered and turned her head, only to find Mycroft giving her a somewhat pained look with that vertical furrow between his brows. She was surprised a few moments later to see a flicker of amusement put a teasing glint in his eyes and lift the corners of his lips just before he cleared his throat and looked at Siger.

“You know I can’t talk about my work, Dad, and Molly respects that,” he said calmly. “Some people actually have qualms about probing into one’s private matters,” he added as he shifted his gaze to Violet with an arch of one brow.

“Those people obviously aren’t mothers to such close-mouthed sons,” Violet said briskly, then went on to ignore his point completely. “I’ll ask again … have you and Molly been able to get together on a regular basis?”

“Violet –”

“For god’s sake, Mummy!”

Molly stared at Violet as the two men spoke over each other, and she suddenly understood that Mycroft’s mother was simply hoping for confirmation, for reassurance, that he had finally let someone into his life. “Yes,” she replied firmly and held Violet’s gaze when the older woman’s eyes met hers. Molly ignored the men, who had turned to look at her as well. “Mind you, we’ve only been seeing each other again for a couple of weeks, but Mycroft’s been good about making time for me, and I hope … I _believe_ that will continue whenever he’s in town and there isn’t a crisis requiring him to work round-the-clock,” she told Violet, then finally turned to look at him. “Your mother’s not being nosy, Mycroft. She just worries about you.”

Mycroft started to argue the last point, but instead found himself chewing his lip as he considered Molly’s anxious expression. While he’d have preferred she not give his mother such details about their relationship, he couldn’t deny their accuracy.

When Mycroft eventually pursed his lips without comment, Molly’s gaze shifted to Siger, and she slowly smiled at seeing him studying her so intently, with his chin resting on steepled fingers. “I didn’t realize that pose was genetic.” When Siger’s brows lowered in confusion, she copied his pose and raised her own brows. “I thought this was just a Mycroft and Sherlock thing, but instead they’re copying you.”

Siger lowered his hands to the table and gave Molly an appreciative smile. “I think they’d both prefer to think they got nothing from dear old dad except maybe my height and long legs.”

“Don’t forget the good looks,” she grinned.

Mycroft sighed. “Molly, please stop flirting with my father," he said dryly as he picked up his teacup. "Dad's blood pressure is already a bit wonky.”

She promptly blushed and looked guiltily at Violet. “I didn’t mean –”

The older woman gave an exasperated snort. “Just ignore Mycroft. It’s nice for Siger to have a pretty young woman about the house.”

“I already do,” he said and reached across the table for his wife’s hand.

“Oh god,” Mycroft groaned as he returned the cup to its saucer, then frowned at Molly. _“Now_ see what you’ve done.”

Molly shrugged unconcernedly and smiled happily at Violet. “So … have you thought of something I can do to help with dinner?”

**Author's Note:**

> Preview of Part II: Thanks to Violet's meddling, Mycroft and Molly will take some steps forward in their relationship - and this time without an immediate step backward. 
> 
> Please note that the storyline of this Encounters series is chronological, so reading earlier parts will show how they got to where they are now. :)
> 
> For anyone who might be interested, I'm on Tumblr and devote 99.99% of my time and effort there to Mycroft/Mark love. [WaitingForTheThaw](http://waitingforthethaw.tumblr.com/)


End file.
